


Spring at an Elementary School

by Anonymous



Category: ENHYPEN (Band), I-LAND (Korea TV)
Genre: 2J is a teacher, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Heeseung is an art teacher, Jungwon is a deputy, M/M, Ni-ki is a principal, Sunghoon is a librarian, Sunoo a priest, They just want to have a honeymoon, enjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:21:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27708275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Spring at an elementary school: rooms plastered in rainbow paintings; the alphabet strung above chalkboards; books stacked in precarious piles; paper chains, a model of the solar system, desks arranged in a grid.
Relationships: Lee Heeseung & Park Sunghoon, Lee Heeseung/Park Sunghoon
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30
Collections: Anonymous





	Spring at an Elementary School

**Author's Note:**

> May contain typographical errors, and grammatical errors.

Spring at an elementary school: rooms plastered in rainbow paintings; the alphabet strung above chalkboards; books stacked in precarious piles; paper chains, a model of the solar system, desks arranged in a grid.

At the end of the main corridor: the auditorium, where behind titian-tinted curtains sits a row of fresh-faced, many-feathered, long-beaked children standing (like silver bells, like cockle shells) in a row. Some cannot remember their lines and fret; some cannot remember their lines and stare into space, elsewhere, unconcerned. A play about the animal kingdom now entering its second act. The winged flock shifting, sneezing, restless.

Heeseung, an art teacher for ten years, counting the crawling clock hands, waiting for the cue. He spent: a month of afternoons in the sunshine-scented library, painstakingly pursuing the sempiternal shelf of encyclopedias, gathering bird images to reference for costumes; and then, later, three months of sizing, cutting, sewing; buttons more valuable than coins, thread he tore with his teeth, the chunka-chunka-chunka of an electric sewing machine, until the children were second only to true birds.

A minute before the cue: the pale skinned librarian backstage, out of his element, standing far from the flock, long jacket and blue turtle neck, a strange man. He is: the keeper of letters, words, paragraphs; exclusively able to reach the highest bookshelf; very much in love with the art teacher, but never in all their years have they conceded this.

“What,” he asks, “kind of bird are you?”

The sparrow at Heeseung’s side imperiously replies, “I’m a sparrow, and she’s a dove, and—”

“No.” The look he gives Heeseung, sagacious, sincere. “I asked what kind of bird are you.”

No question mark at the end. A declaration though no declaration has been made.

The cue. An awkward group of birds shoved onto the stage, beneath bright, blazing beams, and the resulting applause of adoring, perplexed parents.

———

The following morning: no librarian, no art teacher, Nishimura Riki the Principal with a bullhorn in his hand, Jay sitting atop the highest bleacher, studying his little league team on the diamond.

His voice, amplified, when he asks, “Aren’t you the least bit concerned your brother has run away?”

“That is a loaded question.” His frown from fifteen feet above him. “Obviously Lee Heeseung is with him. We all knew it would happen eventually.”

The tiny town is saturated with: flat fields; a muted sky; clouds like cotton balls; denizens who do not elope. These facts prompting Nishimura Riki to report the duplicitous disappearance to their deputy with a name that means sheep, Yang Jungwon who decides: “Until help arrives, I’m deputizing the principal, the one with blonde hair with purple ends, and the korean australian guy.” A pause. “Where’s the library?”

Evidence discovered in the library, proof of Sunghoon’s solid, scrupulous proposal: crinkled notes he left for Heeseung, stuffed between glitter-dusted encyclopedia pages (This is my plan); Heeseung’s reply on cinnamon-colored construction scraps (My answer is yes); Sunghoon's demand (When?); Heeseung’s not-answer (Where?); a map that is now missing, a set of instructions that the deputy, Yang Jungwon can’t find. Old-fashioned and resourceful, he takes a graphite gob from the art room and the notebook Sunghoon left in his desk. A gentle back-and-forth on the first sheet a clean paper betrays the ghostly imprint of Sunghoon’s last letter.

Walk 400 yards from the baseball field to the dirt road that has no name. Bring only what you can carry. I will meet you in the meadow.

Within the half-hour, at the edge of the aforementioned meadow: an endless expanse of sky-scraping sunflowers, canary-colored and honey-hued, the path of broken stalks where Heeseung had ventured in. Nishimura Riki the Principal, the one with blonde hair with the purple ends, and the korean australian guy look upon it: they can only press forward, following bits of prism-pigmented glitter that has clung to Heeseung for a decade, unintentionally brushed onto leaves as he moved past them the day before. On the other side of the meadow: a cobalt-blue lake, a tent now abandoned, a shredded sliver of linen on the shore.

Jay (the one with blonde hair with the purple ends), says, admiringly, “Linen for sails. I believe, Sunghoon has built a boat or something!”

The deputy with a name that means sheep, Nishimura Riki the Principal, the one with blonde hair with the purple ends, and the korean australian guy forge their own gondola, piloting proudly to the opposite side, navigating as though endorsed by Neptune. They stumble upon: another campsite, the smell of kindle, footprints, hearts carved into a tree’s trunk, specks of glitter amongst the sand, a discarded map.

Unsuccessful, the return trip, the elementary school at twilight: pomegranate-pink, ochre-orange, plum-purple sky painted above their heads, flecked with sea salt stars, just like Heeseung’s watercolors.

———

The next day: the entire school staff assembled, armed with compasses, the deputy with a name that means sheep toting a pair of binoculars. Some head North; others head South, but the deputy with a name that means sheep, Yang Jungwon and Nishimura Riki the Principal go East, beyond the lake, and find: Lee Heeseungs’ motorcycle incautiously entrenched atop a pole; drawings in the sand; a very small church crowning a very small hill, run by Brother Sunoo, who recounts a librarian and an art teacher marrying in his chapel the day before. He describes one as pale and outlandish; the other as golden and easily provoked into laughter, but could be shy, leaving behind a book bursting with bird blueprints as a thank you for officiating on such short notice.

Further down the road: a deserted domicile built within the branches of a tree, a tall ladder, Nishimura Riki the Principal climbing upwards, knocking on the door, no one inside to answer.

Riki speaking through the bullhorn: “Lee Heeseung, where the hell are you?”

———

On the sixth day (a Monday): an early staff meeting. Nishimura Riki the Principal on one end. To his left: the one with blonde hair with purple ends, the korean australian guy, Taki the Soft-Spoken Science Teacher; to his right, Kei the Lowbrow Landscaper, the pale skinned librarian—

Nishimura Riki choking on his coffee as he hastily hoists the bullhorn: “Where have you two been?”

Heeseung’s beaming smile, the rutilant ring on his finger as he proudly displays his hand.

“Honeymoon. We brought back presents for everyone.”

Shaking a shabby suitcase onto the table, out tumbles: corroded keys, ships in a bottle, clocks that don’t work, pale shells, copper-colored coins, birds’ nests, odds and ends happened upon, as though gifts will excuse both their absence.

Jake (the korean australian guy) crabbily crossing his arms. “We looked everywhere for you.”

“Obviously you did not look everywhere, if you did not find us,” Sunghoon points out.

Nishimura Riki the Principal brandishes the bullhorn, click, preparing to argue the point with vigor and volume

———

Silence. The creak of Kei’s chair; Jake’s fingers tapping against the tabletop; Heeseung and Sunghoon so plainly pleased that Riki ponders what he is precisely piqued about: the fact they hightailed it without a hint, or the fact he was blindsided by their bravado. He muses on the month Heeseung spent in that library, steadfastly studying in the soft hush, so intent on his project that the clock became inconsequential—and tart, testy Sunghoon, willingly retrieving references for Heeseung’s benefit, even after midday melted into dusk.

Click. “I suppose a congratulations is in order.”

A wayward sprinkle of glitter on Heeseung’s modest face. Sunghoon neither smiling nor frowning (proof of his happiness).

———

Spring at an elementary school: rooms plastered in rainbow paintings; the alphabet strung above chalkboards; books stacked in precarious piles; paper chains, a model of the solar system, desks arranged in a grid.

At one end of the hallway: the auditorium; at the other end: the sunshine-scented library, where Heeseung spends each afternoon with the pale skinned librarian just because he wants to (and because he loves him).

**Author's Note:**

> Did you enjoy?


End file.
